


Blue Light, Warm Hand

by flourwings



Category: Haikyuu!!, Pacific Rim (2013)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flourwings/pseuds/flourwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You play volleyball?!” is the first thing that Hinata says, after.</p><p>You activate the release and crumple to the ground, limbs awkward in your orange and black drivesuit. Hinata tries to take a step towards you and stumbles, bracing himself with one arm against the machinery of his harness. You still see blue flashes with every blink of your eyes, and the world around you tilts and blurs. Your head is full of his memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Light, Warm Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [affectionateTea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/affectionateTea/gifts).



> affectionateTea:
> 
> Thank you for such a great selection of prompts! Seriously, it was so hard to choose. I ended up here with Pac Rim, though: darker in tone, perhaps, than you intended, and also (relatedly) lacking a Jaegers vs. Kaiju Space Jam-style showdown :)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Contemplate: In the Drift, you forget that this is a world where the two of you are strangers.

\--

“You play volleyball?!” is the first thing that Hinata says, after.

You activate the release and crumple to the ground, limbs awkward in your orange and black drivesuit. Hinata tries to take a step towards you and stumbles, bracing himself with one arm against the machinery of his harness. You still see blue flashes with every blink of your eyes, and the world around you tilts and blurs. Your head is full of his memories.

A handful of technicians and medical personnel enter the Conn-Pod and bear toward you. Yachi and Yamaguchi are still chattering anxious in your ear.

“Was that how it should’ve gone?” says Yachi’s voice. “I have a hard time believing that was how it should’ve gone!”

“What happened in there, Kageyama?” Yamaguchi’s voice asks.

You look up. Hinata is smiling at you, desperate, jubilant. You know how that grin feels, from the inside. You know how his cheeks ache and his lips burn with that smile.

“You’re too short to be an ace,” you say, and pass out.

\--

You do not go to his room when they release you from medical.

You do not go to Marshal Sawamura and demand to see his files, to dissect this now intimately unknown person of Hinata Shoyo.

You do not think about him, about his smile, about his dirty fingernails, about _being_ him.

He finds you in the mess hall.

“We should play sometime,” he says. He’s wearing shorts and flip-flops, improbably. You have a table all to yourself, but he sits next to you, so close that your legs touch. You try not to look too alarmed.

 _Of course,_ you don’t say.

 _I hate volleyball,_ you don’t say either.

“When’s the last time you played?” you manage, after an awkward pause. Then, tentatively, trying to find your stride, “Not that what I saw could be called playing…”

“Hey!” He elbows you in the ribs, friendly and indignant. A moment of surprise and you elbow back, a bit too roughly. “I never had a real team! I watched this one volleyball player on TV, the Little Giant – did you see it, when—?” he points vaguely at his head to indicate the Drift from that morning. You nod briefly, and he barrels on, “but, you know, there was no one else in my middle school volleyball club, or at least in the _boys’_ club—”

He’s eating his zaru soba as he speaks, removing the seaweed almost surgically and leaving it untouched at the side of the plate, working his messy way through the noodles. You want to study him, watch him as he talks and eats, but would need to turn your head to see him properly. You decide it would be too obvious.

“I had hoped to go to a tournament my third year of middle school,” Hinata continues. “But that’s when…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but doesn’t need to. You have two sets of memories from that day now, two more than anyone would want to have. _That’s when_ … That’s when the ocean opened up. That’s when the monsters came. That’s when the world ended, thick with ash and blue toxic blood.

“After K-Day, my parents took me and my sister out of Japan. I didn’t play after that.”

He has eaten all of his soba. After a second, you slide your plate over and he starts on the last of your tempura without comment.

“How old is your sister now?” you ask. Blue flashes: bright hair, jump-rope. _She’s nineteen,_ you think unbidden. She blows out the candles on her birthday cake and smiles at you. At him.

“Natsu just turned nineteen!” Hinata says. You nod, awkwardly.

“It was weird,” he says. You turn your head, finally, and look at him. He’s done eating, his face serious. “Earlier. I mean— I can’t remember before Natsu was born, but now I know— or kind of know?— what it’s like to be an only child. You know, because you are. It seemed so quiet! I mean, I can’t imagine growing up like that.” But of course now he doesn’t have to imagine. He turns and smiles at you, and you can’t look away.

 _I’m not an only child,_ you want to say, but don’t. _I have little sister named Natsu. She loves sunflowers. She loves summer. Sometimes she puts down a mattress on my floor and sleeps in my room because she’s afraid._

“Um,” Hinata says. He’s looking down between you, and you look too.

You’re holding his hand.

“No, it’s fine!” he says, as your tray clatters and you stand, bumping your knee on the table. “Don’t—“ he says, but it’s too late. You’re gone.

\--

Contemplate: a different world.

Contemplate: the squeak of sneakers and the heat of a crowd’s collective breath, the resounding smack of the ball.

Contemplate: Hinata Shoyo, staring down at his smarting hand.

\--

You’re in the storage bay, standing still and quiet like you used to do in the neighborhood park each night after dinner, years and years ago. You don’t miss the trees, or the fresh air, or the loneliness, but you do want to be back there, somehow. If you keep your eyes closed, you can almost pretend that the groaning of metal scaffolding is the creak of wood, that the vast emptiness above you opens up onto the windy dark night, where fluorescent stars hang from the rafters and steel girders of the sky.

“Hey, Kageyama.”

Daichi puts his hand on your shoulder, and you only flinch away a little.

“Marshal,” you say.

The jaegers stand above the two of you, in a towering line. You look up at them. There is nothing about them that fits into your memory of the windy park and evening sky.

Boudicca Heavy. Epsilon Wave. Corvid Major. And at the end, there she is. Your new second body. Genesis Quick stands at the end of the bay, still shiny and clean.

It’s late, and most of the workers have gone to their bunks. The bay is strangely quiet, except for the echoing of occasional footsteps.

“I thought you might come to see her,” Daichi says.

“Yes,” you say. “I mean, yes, sir.”

“I know you’re used to something stronger. Or bigger, at least.” Daichi leans back, hands in his pockets. “Things are different here, Tobio.”

You glance at him, surprised by his casual use of your name.

“Sir?”

“We help each other here,” he says. He’s looking up at Epsilon Wave, and the scaffolding around her, her half-finished repairs. You wonder what the kaiju did that tore her apart. “We have each other’s backs,” Daichi says. He turns to look at you. “We’re a team.”

“Yes,” you say, “of course. Thank you.”

“This isn’t a reassurance that you’re not alone,” he replies, expression severe as the cut of his suit. “Listen to me, Tobio. It’s a warning that you shouldn’t try to be.”

 _He knows,_ you think, _he knows what happened last time, with Kindaichi._ You’re frozen, paralyzed. He holds you in his steady gaze.

In the exhilaration of your sudden panic, you’re struck for a moment by how young Daichi is, despite the suit and intimidating frown. You know that he used to be a pilot, like you. You wonder briefly what the kaiju did to him. You wonder if, like Epsilon Wave, they tore him apart. You wonder, desperate, if he’s going to tell you to leave.

The tension of the moment is broken by the approach of footsteps and laughter.

“It’s an intimidating thing to say! Intimidation is key!” Ryuu is shouting at his sister. Saeko is doubled up, laughing so hard she can’t speak. Walking with them, Suga looks on, smiling. He’s carrying a volleyball under one arm.

“We’ll chew you up and… and spit you out…” Saeko imitates, still breathless with laughter. Ryuu lets out a wordless roar and leaps at her, and she gets him in a headlock so easily that you’re a little amazed.

As the Tanakas grapple, Suga catches sight of you and Daichi. His smile falters for a moment.

“What’s going on?” he asks, voice casual but wary.

“Just showing Kageyama the lineup,” says Daichi, equally casually, gesturing to the row of jaegers.

“Heyy, Daichi, hey New Guy #2” says Saeko, having left Ryuu spluttering on the ground. “And how are you doing, baby?” she says, crossing to Epsilon Wave and resting her open hands lovingly on the front of one huge metal foot.

“Don’t sweet talk her like that when you’re the one who fucked her up!” says Ryuu as he staggers over to join her.

“Oh, just me, huh? Come on, it’s literally impossible to be any more my fault than yours,” says Saeko.

The two of them start to wrestle again, bickering loud and friendly, their voices overlapping, unintelligible.

“Noya left, so we lost our fourth,” says Suga. He tosses the volleyball from one hand to the other, his smile back. “Here, catch.”

Daichi catches the thrown ball, but not the smile.

“Two days,” he says, and tosses the ball back.

“I know,” says Suga. Catches. Throws. You feel like you are invading something private: Daichi’s suddenly tangible worry, Suga’s soft reassurance, the easy familiarity with which the ball travels between them.

“It’s too soon,” Daichi says. “Epsilon won’t be ready in time.” He throws, a neat arc.

“It’ll be fine.” Suga’s throw puts the ball a little too far to the left and Daichi has to move quickly to catch it.

“I hope so.”

The ball is loud as it hits Suga’s hands. “We’re ready.” .

Daichi tosses light and high. “I know.”

“Tag me out for a second, Kageyama?” Suga says. You blink in surprise. He’s holding the volleyball out to you.

“No thank you,” you say. Suga watches as you leave, spinning the ball between his hands, his brow furrowed. He throws again. Again, Daichi catches.

\--

Contemplate: Who could these two be, in a different world?

Contemplate: Daichi’s frown, his softness.

Contemplate: Suga’s smile, his steel.

\--

The length between rift events is shorter than you remember, but still long enough to make you restless. You know there is nothing you can do, that you must suffer through the anxious weight of this next day. You wake up early and cannot go back to sleep, so you put on your civilian clothes and leave the Shatterdome to walk through the city before the sun rises.

You take turns randomly, down wide boulevards and narrow alleys. You wander the suburban sprawl. On one road, a bank of hydrangeas pour their pink scent into the street. On another, a cat runs silkily between your ankles, purring.

Dreamlike, you find yourself in front of a house. You ring the doorbell.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry,” you say. You stare at the boy in the doorway. He looks so familiar, with his pudding-hair. You realize suddenly that you have no reason to have knocked on this stranger’s door. But there’s something you can’t shake. It felt like something you should do. You feel confused. “I’m sorry,” you say, “I don’t know you. I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Okay,” he says, hesitantly, and begins to close the door.

“Kenma?” you say, and he stops. It’s a name you’ve never heard before.

“Yeah,” he says. He’s holding his phone in one hand. With the other he tucks his hair behind his ears, and the gesture is so familiar you could smile— you could smile someone else’s smile, a smile so wide that your cheeks would ache and your lips would burn with it. You begin to realize why you came here, why you know his name.

“Do you know Hinata Shoyo?” you ask.

“Yes.” He frowns in confusion. When you don’t say anything, he speaks again. “Why are you here?”

“It’s Wednesday,” you say. “He always comes to visit you on Wednesdays. I must have accidentally thought that I was him.”

You realize that you aren’t making any sense, and you try to find the words to explain. But his shoulders have lost some of their tension, and he lets his head rest against the door.

“Oh,” he says. “You must be the copilot. Kageyama.”

“Yes,” you say, your turn to be confused.

“I’m making breakfast,” he says. “Come in.”

\--

You sit across from him at his kitchen table. Your miso steams in the chipped bowl he gave you. He drinks steadily from his own bowl.

“Hinata should be here soon,” he says. You feel antsy, drumming your fingers against your knee.

“Maybe I should just leave,” you say.

“If you want to.”

He has his phone out on the table, and he’s playing some game with one hand as he eats.

You don’t leave.

“How you know him?” you ask, as you begin on your miso.

“We went to the Academy together,” he says.

“Oh,” you say, surprised, “are you—?”

“I wasn’t very good. Not really.” He looks up at you. “I tried to Drift with Hinata once. But we weren’t quite compatible.”

“Oh,” you say. There’s a brief pause. You drink some of your soup.

“Is it true that Sugawara Koushi can drift with anyone?” Kenma asks. He’s put his phone down now. “Hinata told me that.”

“I— don’t know,” you say. It wouldn’t surprise you.

“That’s what I would have wanted,” he says, casually. “Not to be good. But to be able to drift with anyone, you know?”

“Yeah,” you say, but you don’t know. All you wanted was to be good. To be better than that. To be the best.

As you examine him more closely, you can tell he’s a little uncomfortable with you there. His hands are tense on his chopsticks as he picks up and eats a piece of tofu from his bowl. Or maybe his tension comes from somewhere else.

“I’m scared for him, Kageyama,” he says.

You’re taken aback. You open your mouth to speak.

The front door bangs open.

“Good morning, Kenma—!!“ Hinata shouts, before coming up short at the sight of you.

“Kageyama’s here,” Kenma says mildly.

“Oh!” Hinata says. He’s holding a bag of something in his arms.

“I’m just leaving,” you say, and you stand up.

“Wait,” Hinata says. “I’ll go with you. I mean—“ he looks at Kenma.

“It’s fine,” he says.

“No, stay,” you say. “I didn’t mean to be here, really.”

“No! I mean, I’ve been looking for you,” Hinata says. Casting about wildly: “Hey, are you hungry?”

“I just ate,” you say. You’ve finished your miso, and as you speak you look down at the empty bowl. You realize that you’ve left all the seaweed untouched at the bottom.

“Let’s go get pork buns!” he says, as if he didn’t hear you.

You stand there looking at the seaweed, green against the pale porcelain of the bowl. You don’t speak for a long moment. Kenma shifts, setting down his chopsticks.

“Um,” Hinata begins.

“I’ve been gone all morning,” you say, abruptly. “I should get back to base.”

As you leave, Hinata sits down at the table, and you can hear Kenma saying something to him softly. You try not to listen. You step out into the summer air. Before you can close the door behind you, the cat that you saw earlier slips through the doorway and into Kenma’s house, acknowledging you with a meow and a twist of his black tail.

\--

Contemplate: In another world, you watch Kenma sitting on the bleachers before a match. Hinata sits next to him, rolling his knee pads on. You look at Kenma’s face as he speaks, at his almost-smile, at the small movements of Hinata’s hands.

\--

It’s raining outside, you think. It’s hard to tell. The sea is wild, and it throws spray up in Genesis’ face. You press forward.

Your feet are cold. You meant to tell Yamaguchi about that, but forgot. Your feet always seem to get cold in here, and it’s probably bad for your reaction time. Are you more sluggish than usual? You want to be fast. You want to feel like fire. You remember what it is to be really cold, for your hands to get numb and sweet with it. You try to will yourself warmer, and struggle on against the weight and movement of the sea.

It’s worse than you remember. It’s harder. It’s just as hard.

With each step, you cry out, and Hinata cries out too.

“C’mon, Kageyama,” he yells. He shakes his head, and you shake your head in the same movement, and Genesis shakes her head, out there in the water and wind. You grit your teeth, and keep going.

“You’re almost there, Genesis,” says Yamaguchi in your ear. Up ahead there are vague shapes among the waves, and on your display you can see three blinking dots as you approach. Two friend, one foe.

“Let’s do this,” says Hinata.

It doesn’t look good. Both jaegers are already damaged. Corvid Major has several long gashes in her black metal plating. Boudicca Heavy is moving slow, the sea parting around her unforgiving mass. The kaiju, Lindworm, circles them, all sharp teeth and slick with two long tails. He turns as Genesis draws near.

“Here he comes,” says Suga in warning, from Boudicca Heavy’s Conn-Pod. He’s out of breath. “Tag me out for a second, Kageyama?”

The sea churns as Lindworm hits you hard, Genesis’ joints grinding. Your knees bend as you brace against the machinery, as Genesis braces against the ocean floor. You grapple for a moment, and, twisting, fling the kaiju off with a blast from the plasma cannon in Genesis’ right hand. Corvid Major tries to flank the kaiju from the left, but only lands a glancing blow. You brace again as he turns back to you.

You don’t have to look at Hinata. You can feel his muscles tensing with yours, the grit of his teeth. You move together, and when you strike, you strike with his energy, with your calculation. You’re strong, and you’re fast. But Lindworm is faster.

You can’t figure out his tactics, if a kaiju even has tactics. You can’t predict the way he fights. He’s there before you move, before you even think of moving. Yamaguchi is speaking fast in all your ears, voice shaking a little but still confident. Is it easier for him to understand, watching you as if from above, four dots moving on a projected screen?

“You’re moving towards land,” he says, “keep him to the east, just keep pressing east.”

“Which way is east?” Hinata says, breathless.

The situation had looked bad earlier, but it’s getting worse. Boudicca Heavy moves slower and slower—something is wrong inside, in her core. Corvid Major, a flexible brawler, is still no match for the speed of Lindworm’s tails. She staggers, Nishinoya and Ennoshita cursing in your ear as they step her backwards in momentarily retreat.

“We have to eject!” yells Suga. Boudicca Heavy is hissing and smoking in the cold air and water, grinding to a halt. “I’m sorry! I’m so—“ his voice is cut off.

Lindworm turns on you, a brief bolt of impact. You’re tilting backwards and you try to break your fall with your arm, but one of his black tails whips around you and you go down hard into the choppy water.

“Oh god,” Hinata calls out as you struggle to one knee, the waves cresting against you. Your right hand isn’t working, you think. Your right hand isn’t there. You look down at your arm, your own black-gloved hand intact. You flex your fingers. Genesis looks at her arm too, and her bent and crushed joints, sparks flying, arcing uselessly into the sea. Her severed hand must be sinking deeper even now, under the water.

“Genesis!” yells Nishinoya from Corvid Major.

“We’re coming,” you say, or maybe Hinata says it. You manage to stand, but Lindworm is there again, tails slicing at you, jaws around you. You fall, again, under his weight. You fall, and fall.

_Everything is blue, and Natsu smiles at you in the flickering light of her birthday candles. She leans forward, and blows them out._

Hinata is gasping for breath so loud you can hear him even over Genesis’ machinery and the water-muffled noise outside. Above the surface, Lindworm and the sea roar together.

_You’re making angels in the snow. In the blue haze, you drop a mitten. You reach for it with Hinata’s hands._

Everything lurches, and Hinata cries out in pain as something collides with his leg. Nearby, Boudicca Heavy falls too, under claws and teeth. Corvid Major, ruined, limping, stands alone.

_It’s summer, and you’re surrounded by blue sunflowers. Kenma’s face is serious as he leans forward to kiss you. His lips are earnest against yours._

There’s water in the Conn-Pod. You must have sprung a leak somewhere. Your feet are still cold, and everything is heavy and wet. Genesis is sinking further. She can’t move. Hinata turns to look at you.

“What’s happeni—“

_Everything is silent, and still._

_Kindaichi stares at you, brow furrowed, blue and angry. “It’s too much, Kageyama,” he says. “You’re pushing too hard.”_

_It’s early in the morning, and you’re standing in the hall in front of your old room in Tokyo. The sun is rising outside, and it casts blue light in through the window at the end of the hallway._

_Kindaichi is wearing your sweatshirt. You feel like you’re going to throw up._

_”We can do better,” you say to him, reaching out, and he shakes his head and moves away. “We can be even faster. If you just keep up—“_

_“I can’t Drift with you again.”_

_The two of you stand there, in the hallway. The sun rises a little higher. The silence envelops and consumes you._

“Kageyama—“

_You’re hooking yourself into your harness in Bomber Citadel. The empty space where Kindaichi should be is blue, blue, blue._

_“You can’t do this yourself,” says Kunimi from somewhere far away._

_“Then help me,” you say. There is a click, and Kunimi doesn’t say anything anymore._

_You start walking. Everything is loud in your head, and you can feel the heat of the jaeger in your brain._

_Your nose is bleeding. Your blood is indistinguishable from Kaiju blue._

_You walk and walk._

“It’s not over,” someone is saying in your ear, their voice buzzing with static.

_You walk, and you’re alone._

“Get up! It’s not over!”

_Natsu blows out her candles, eats her blue cake, smiles._

“Get up!” Nishinoya yells again. “Come on! We’re not done!”

\--

Contemplate: Nishinoya Yuu has bruises on his knees and on his elbows, on the outside of his left wrist and blooming large across his tailbone.

Contemplate: Nishinoya Yuu doesn’t cover them up. He lets people point at and question the evidence of his tumbling rolls and reckless dives. He wears the purple and blue and green like a medal, like a mark of pride.

Contemplate: Nishinoya Yuu has these bruises in every world.

\--

After you’d won, everything seemed distant.

You didn’t speak as you stood there in victory, Lindworm dead and submerged in the water. Ennoshita was laughing with relief somewhere far off, wherever Corvid Major was standing ragged. You could see Suga and Tsukishima on the shoulder of Boudicca Heavy, staunch and pale, flare guns smoking.

“Okay, team,” said Yamaguchi’s voice. “It’s time to head home.”

You didn’t speak as you made your way back through the choppy sea.

Later you lay down on your bed in your room, and slept, and dreamt. Dumb normal things, mostly, but also monsters and sunflowers and missing hands.

You wake up, and the sun is already creeping lower in the sky, the light starting to get red and true.

“Hey,” says Hinata. He’s sitting on the end of your bed, and watching the sunset through your window.

“Hey,” you say.

You feel like time had been suspended until the two of you spoke. In the hours after a mission, everything is quiet and still; distorted, like looking through a soap bubble. Your voice is hoarse, and you clear your throat before speaking again.

“Do you want to play volleyball?”

The bubble pops. His head snaps around to look at you, eyes wide.

“Toss to me,” he says.

\--

Yachi is in the athletic center when you arrive, working at the rowing machine with diligence. Hinata quickly recruits her help. She looks worried at the quietness of his energy.

The three of you stand on the court. Hinata is still in the black clothing he wears under his drivesuit. Yachi is wearing shorts, her girlfriend’s t-shirt, and green legwarmers. You’re in your pajamas.

“I don’t—“ Yachi says, from next to the cart full of equipment.

“Just throw it above Kageyama’s head,” says Hinata. His hands are shaking, just a little.

Yachi fishes out a volleyball, unsure.

She throws it high. You position yourself under it, your arms up. They snap into the correct position naturally. _How much of this do I still know?_ you wonder. _How long has it been since I did this?_

You watch the ball.

You inhale.

You think of Lindworm, unbidden. His tails lash around you, and the ocean breaks against your chest and arms.

You toss.

You can tell as soon as the ball leaves your fingers that it won’t connect. Hinata jumps valiantly for it, but his hand whistles through empty air. The ball hits the floor and ricochets off to the corner of the room.

 _It has been too long,_ you think, all of the energy falling out of you. _I can’t do it. Just one more thing lost and forgotten._

“Again!” Hinata says.

Yachi runs to get the ball. They only have one volleyball here, you realize absently. It’s probably the same one that Suga and Daichi were throwing back and forth. You watch, detached, as Yachi positions herself back at the side of the court.

“Okay!” she says, determinedly. She throws, and you raise your arms again.

You can’t help it. You remember Lindworm. You remember Kindaichi. You can see his face, and what his back looked like as he turned away. He’s frowning. He’s wearing your sweatshirt. He’s gone.

Again, the toss goes awry.

Hinata, overwhelmed by his momentum as he runs after it, tumbles head over heels on the hard surface of the court.

“Are you alright?!” Yachi yells. Hinata pulls himself up from the ground, dusting off his knees. He crosses over to where you stand quietly, looking at your hands.

“C’mon Kageyama,” he says, moving close. He bumps your foreheads together and his hand is on the back of your neck, warm and shockingly intimate. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in.

“Okay,” you say.

Hinata moves away. Yachi retrieves the ball. She throws. You raise your arms.

You think about Lindworm. You think about Kindaichi. You think about the warmth of Hinata’s hands, remember how they felt years ago, one missing a mitten, shoved into the pockets of his coat to escape from the winter wind.

The ball falls down to you, passing through the gym’s dusty air. You breathe in, a quick shallow breath. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hinata rising through the air, his arm outstretched. He’s jumping already? Your mind races. You position yourself as the ball descends. You remember that cold winter day, the snowman that you built with Hinata’s hands. And suddenly everything speeds up, and you’re pushing the ball forward, and it doesn’t just pass through the air, it parts the air, and Hinata’s hand connects like a lightning strike, and the noise as the ball hits the opposite side of the court is a resounding clap of thunder.

The room is quiet in the aftermath, except for the small continuing sounds of the ball, which bounces twice more and rolls to a stop against the back wall. Yachi is staring at the two of you, her mouth hanging open.

“Again!” Hinata crows.

\--

Contemplate: There are so many worlds. Worlds in which you die, and those in which you live, and those in which you win. Worlds with grass-stains on your knees, or toxic blue in your broken bones— the crowds roar your name, for one reason or another. Whole worlds in Kindaichi’s frown, or in the scratch of Kenma’s chapped lips, in memories that don’t belong to you, and those that do. Worlds you imagine. Worlds you create. Worlds within worlds.

Know: In a world with him, you are not alone.


End file.
